Death's Shadow
by Randomnormality
Summary: 'I didn't realize at the time that the crack in my shell was just the beginning. I didn't realize, Wade Wilson would find a way past my defenses and leave me with nothing but heartache after it is all over.' Deadpool Wade /OC
1. Waiting for Death

**Death's Shadow**

**By: Randomnormality**

**Summary:**

Everyone has a story. Every single person has a beginning to their story, a point of climax and initially they have an end. Most people have very calm, loving stories. Some stories tell struggles to stay afloat. Some stories are quickly ended, while other stories seem endless.

My story began with chaos...and it can only end in pain.

**Pairing: **Wade Wilson(Deadpool)/Luna McCloud(Shadow), Wolverine/Raine, Gambit/Rogue

Rated Mature for Violence, coarse language, sexual content and mostly just to cover my ass in the future if things become worse.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own X-Men, and Luna McCloud is my own original character, and I assure you that she is not a Mary-Sue, though she is a really good combat fighter.

Please leave reviews, I like to know what people think and keep the flames to a minimum...I am very close friends with a pyromaniac and things just end in disaster, trust me.

**Story Keys:**

"speech" - used in conversation from one character to another  
_'speech' - used to express thoughts of main character, or emphasis on words  
"speech" - used to express any use of telepathic conversations, but this will most likely be used later in the story  
**'speech'- used at the beginning and end of each chapter. Mainly my Original Character (Luna) speaking to the readers (you).**_

**Enjoy!

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**Prologue- Waiting for Death**

**_'This wasn't how I pictured Death. I never imagined dying. When I was young, I never believed I would willingly trade my life for the safety of others. How many years has it been?'_****  
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The pain seems endless, as though every nerve along my body is being stretched, reaching for what it can no longer grasp. All because of the rather tight collar around my throat, barely enough room for me to swallow without feeling sharpened points pinch into my skin. The bruises, cuts and broken bones haven't healed like they should have, the dull hum of pain rattling my nerves beneath my skin. My vision is blurred. Scents seem anything but pleasant. Sounds seem distorted, as if my head is being held underneath water. Nothing is right.

"Looks like she's coming to."

Upon hearing the vaguely muffled words, I force my eyes open to stare blankly at the man seated before me. I don't have to see straight to catch sight of the triumphant look forming on his face. I don't have to be telepathic to know what he is thinking. He wants to be able to control me, and in turn, he'd gain control over my most loyal companions.

"Now, why don't you tell me why my assassin just refuses to kill you like he's been ordered to for the past two years," the man asks, his eyes cruel and empty.

"I have no problem telling you why," I pause as a glint of success flickers through his eyes, "but that amount of information would cause that tiny amount of grey matter floating within your skull to explode."

A hand connects with my dimple-inducing, smirking face, my cheek stinging and probably already turning red over the previous bruise, "Don't sass me, woman. You must not be that important if you've been here for three weeks and none of your pathetic friends have come to your rescue."

A chuckle leaves my lips, "Rescue? Haven't you seen the type of people I associate myself with now days. They wouldn't put their necks on the line for anyone but themselves. That's why I chose to fight beside them."

My head snaps to the side as the back of his hand connects with my opposite cheek, "Your sense of humor isn't going to help you here."

"Funny that I point out facts and you think it's a joke," I retort easily, feeling a fist connect with my exposed stomach, but I refuse to scream. Inhaling the air back into my lungs, I glare up at the man, "Now, the reason behind your assassin refusing to kill me? You think I know? That man has always been a mystery to me."

"Always?" I wince as the sharpened point of a standard hunting knife glides down my exposed upper arm, "Now those words seem a little strange does it not?"

"For as long as I've known your assassin, he has always been the epitome of a basket case," I reply, "It was only a matter of time before he lost his head in the game."

A burning sensation cuts through my side as the hunting knife is plunged into my exposed side, "I was planning on keeping you, but I have a feeling no matter what I do, you'll always have that arrogant attitude of yours." I choke on a gasp as the knife in my side if pushed deeper, his wrist twisting it causing it to tear into more tissue. "Are you willing to die for someone who has been trying to kill you for two years?"

Forcing myself to inhale- the task proving more difficult than it should be, I groan at the taste of my own blood moving up the back of my throat. Staring the man in the eyes, I know my decision the minute the blood leaves my mouth, slapping against his cheek.

"Go fuck yourself."

I finally release a scream as the blade is roughly ripped from my side, the force causing my chair to fall back. As darkness creeps over my vision, I find that I am not comforted as I should be. No. This darkness is silent, deadly and very cold. This darkness is not the same darkness that I have called my friend for my entire life.

Even so. I find myself proven from all those years ago.

Shadow never left me.

"Shadow," a rough growl causes my eyes to open, but the darkened room seems brighter than my subconscious. Upon seeing the familiar brown eyes, I reach up and cup his cheek.

A strange look, a look I haven't seen in a long time, flickers through the brown eyes, causing me to lick my blood-coated lips, "It's always been you."

A strange sense of lethargy causes me to drop my hand, my weary mind wanting to sink back into the darkness, "S-Shadow?" I try to call back, but my lips don't want to move, "Sh- Luna? Lu? P-please don't do this." Heat wraps around me, causing the cold darkness to seem less comforting, "Lu." The strong voice is broken and I want nothing more than reassure him that I am fine, but my body doesn't comply with my wishes. Something hot and wet presses against my cheek as the heat wraps around my tighter, "It's always been you, Lu. No one, but you."

The darkness wraps around my mind, my heart skipping one more beat as something warm and familiar presses against my still lips.

I guess he never left me either.

_**'I'm not dying to protect someone who has been trying to kill me for two years. I'm dying to protect the person that gave my life meaning. The very person that changed my life forever. I'm dying to keep Wade Wilson**__ a free man once more.'_


	2. Passionate Gaze

**Chapter One- Passionate Gaze**

**_'For nearly six years I felt absolutely nothing. Not the joy of friendship. The sorrow of heartbreak. Nor the love of another. It all changed in one day.'_  
**

Sitting at the secluded table in the corner of the rather large sitting room, I pay no mind to the bumbling Humans that fill the room, their knowledge of my actions causing them to keep a _safe_ distance from me. Of course, if they knew anything about me, they would know even distance wouldn't keep them safe. Focusing on the blank page of my sketchpad, I lift the pencil and begin drawing the past memories darkening my thoughts.

My pathetic life began like all other life-forms. I was the female offspring of a couple, both who were very wealthy, and yet unable to accept their new responsibility. No. I became the responsibility of the _help_, my _maids and butlers_ being more parental than the very people that gave me life. I grew up rather secluded, attending an all-girls boarding school located in the heart of Dublin, Ireland, a few hours from my _home_.

At the age twelve my life started to change. Unexplained markings- bruises and lacerations, appearing on my body. Teachers believed them to be from fights- their assumption not entirely inaccurate. Some believed it to be abusive markings from my parents- as if they ever gave me enough attention to actually care, let alone hurt me.

By the age fourteen, the manifested abuse grew frighteningly more painful and in turn I spoke to the _trusted_ adults at my boarding school. I told them about the shadows. How they speak to me, not verbally, but more as if I can understand what they want from me. I tell them about being hurt, mostly from my confusion on not understanding what they really want.

It isn't much longer that I am placed at St. Maxwell's Institute. An asylum. Apparently, my parents told them I was depressed- and I guess my rather morbid artwork didn't help negate the words. Manic-Depressive, or Bi-Polar, is their first label. Schizophrenia their second label- not hearing voices but seeing things that 'aren't really there'. Selective Mutism is their third and final label- I gave up trying to tell them the truth. If they cannot believe me when I tell them the truth, then why try to hold a conversation with them?

"Good afternoon, Luna," I hear a calm, pleasant voice greet, pulling me from my musings.

Looking up, a nurse looks down at me with a warm smile. I don't bother trying to remember her name, since nurses here come and go. It is her two companions that spark my interest. An older man, the shortest of the two, is dressed in the uniform of a military branch. American I believe. The younger of the two is handsome, his facial features kind and his deep brown eyes bright with interest.

"This is Colonel William Styker and his friend Wade Wilson," the nurse states, motioning toward the two men.

"It's nice to meet you, Miss McCloud," Styker states, the shadows in the room shifting only slightly. "It is a pleasure to meet such an intelligent person such as yourself."

Ah. That's right. Apparently I'm an intellectual prodigy. By the age sixteen, I had passed all exams needed to graduate my schooling. I have grown a knack for reading, my bouts of insomnia sometimes keeping me awake for days. I have read every book in the library of St. Maxwell's and even books I had special ordered.

"I was hoping to convince you to joining a special task force. Your gifted mind would be a major asset to the team I plan on getting together," Styker states.

Moving to my feet, I collect my things and with a pointed look toward the nurse, I make my way out of the sitting room. Entering my personal room, I inhale as a sense of comfort floods me as I welcome the silence filling the dimly lit room. Sliding my sketchpad back into the small bookcase in my room, I tense as I feel something out of place. Slowly turning around, my gaze lands on the younger of the two men, standing in my open doorway.

"Sorry, but Styker wanted to speak with some of the nurses about your 'condition'," he states, his vocals carrying accents of American-English. "You really don't talk, huh?" I shake my head, "Is the constant blank gaze a trait of that as well? I'd really hate to play poker with a face like yours across the table."

I quirk an eyebrow, allowing a flicker of emotion to appear on my face, wondering why he is here. His casual dress clothes negates the sense of confidence. The grin on his face tells of secrets. His eyes...something about his eyes is confusing. A wide array of emotions seem to swirl in the brown depths, mixing and contradicting the point of the others.

"Look, we aren't here because of your intelligence, all though I'm sure that is a bonus. Your records state of having told your old counselor that you were harmed by 'shadows'," I allow a glare to appear on my face, his arms raising at his side as if to calm me down, "Relax, I'm not here to make fun of you. Trust me, I believe you. There's a kid about your age, maybe younger, that can control electricity, so it really isn't strange to think about controlling shadows."

Control? If I had control, I wouldn't be here. His words make sense though. Realizing my door is still wide open, I motion for him to sit on the chair at my private study desk as I move to sit cross-legged on the bed. Shutting my eyes, I motion for him to continue with a wave of my hand.

"You aren't the only person out there with special gifts," he expresses softly, "Like I said, there's a kid around your age who can control electricity. I know someone who has a mix of invisibility and teleportation. Me? I just have several heightened senses and speed." His body leans toward me, beautiful brown eyes openly passionate about the words that leave his lips, "Don't you see. You don't have to be alone anymore."

Alone? He doesn't realize that I am _never_ alone. The Shadows often keep me company in my solitude. Only when the nurses force those...anti-depressants down my throat do the Shadows ravage my body. Something warm touches my cooler hand and in an instant, my fingers flex, knuckles cracking and his body is heaved from the chair and against the wall.

"What the fuck?"

My gaze does not leave my hand. The hand that caused the young man pain. The hand he _touched_. A strange sensation fills me at the notion, my gaze meeting his own, only for my body to tense at the sight of pure black eyes. Seeing the open, coal-black eyes staring daggers at me, I do not hesitate to look away from the young man. Something isn't right.

Slowly, the black from his eyes swirls back to the sparkling brown, and as the color fills his irises, the tension leaves my body, only a thread filling my nerves. My hyper-awareness seems to catch his attention and his facial features transform from shocked anger to a more softened look.

"So, you don't like being touched," he says, and I immediately argue the words mentally, "Sorry. You just looked...lost and confused. Now. Why don't you come with m- us?" I allow my eyebrow to quirk at his words, "I'll be by your side every step of the way."

Hesitation fills me. What if this is a trick? What if he will turn and abandon me like everyone else, drop me off the nearest cliff, or at the nearest asylum when he gets what he really wants? What if this is all just a lie?

"I promise."

My hesitation breaks and I pull my gaze from where it had returned to my lap and stare openly at the man. A promise. An act of saying something, with the intention of doing something. A verbal pact, a treaty of words. Something I know people are very limited to actually keeping.

"I swear. I never make a promise I don't intend to keep."

How does he know what I'm thinking? I feel my head tilt slightly as I peer up at the man. His gaze holds only sincerity. Seeing him hold out his hand, waiting for a show of acceptance, my vision focuses on the offered hand. Shaking from the knowledge that I'm about to do something I haven't done in a long time, I reach out and carefully- not to mention quickly, clasp my hand in his, shaking it up and down twice before releasing the hand.

"So you can touch. That's good. Come on. Styker most likely has the head nurse giving him the papers for your release."

Seeing him move from the wall he used as leaning post, I carefully move from the bed and move to the closet. Lifting my messenger bag, I move to the bookcase and retrieve all of my sketchpads. Looking around the room once more, I wonder if this is something I should be doing. An unseen force nudges me toward the door and from the comfortable cool breeze, I know that the Shadows would not have me do something that I would later regret.

After signing papers, I give the head nurse a nod before following the two men out of the building. I hesitate for only a moment, it having been almost four years since I entered this building, having never stepped a foot out of it afterward. Feeling a gentle tug on the sleeve of my hospital scrubs, I look up to see the slightly concerned look on Wade's face. Nodding at the man, I shake myself of the hesitation and follow the two men into the car.

"Miss McCloud. After we arrive back at the base, you will begin your two month training session. Wade will be the one to assist you during your training. When Wade believes you are ready, we will see what you can do for us on missions," Styker states, but as usual I say nothing, opting to nod in agreement.

It isn't long before I am sitting in a private jet, my eyes looking over the waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Never again will I return to the dreaded place of my childhood days. Hearing a slight snore from beside me, my gaze falls onto the sleeping Wade and in that instant, I feel the smallest twitch at the corner of my lips. Shaking my head at the man, who I soon realized to be very talkative, it isn't a surprise that he is unable to keep from making noise when he is asleep. Closing my eyes, I allow the calm Shadows of the airplane to swirl around me briefly, my hair dancing in the air for a moment.

Opening my eyes once more, I find myself staring at my left hand. Go figure, a man with smooth words and beautiful eyes is the first to get me to crack.

**_'I didn't realize at the time that the crack in my shell was just the beginning. I didn't realize, Wade Wilson would find a way past my defenses and leave me with nothing but heartache after it is all over.'

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**I understand the first two chapters are rather short, but my chapters will grow longer. This is just the stage of introduction and you must remember, this is my main character, Luna, telling you her story, so it will be broken up with points that she finds important to tell you. I'm not sure how long the chapters will be, but please leave a review and let me know what you think. I promise, there is nothing Mary-Sue about my character and as you can see, she does eventually have dialogue.**

**Please leave a review and thanks for reading!  
**


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